


Heartless

by Queen of Hearts (ElvenSorceress)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Canon Compliant, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSorceress/pseuds/Queen%20of%20Hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milah is suffocating until she meets a presumptuous handsome pirate. —- A look at Milah’s life before she leaves home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartless

She knew he was different the moment they met. It wasn't that he'd stolen her heart with a glance, because he hadn't, or that she'd known they were destined to be together, because she didn't. It wasn't fate or magic or love at first sight. It wasn't even his exotic, opulent clothes or his extraordinarily handsome face and beautiful ocean-blue eyes that made him so distinct.

It was that he hadn't laughed or ignored or tried to trample her when someone pushed her over onto the street. He knelt beside her, offered her his hand, and spoke with unmatched gentleness, "Are you all right, darling?"

She eyed him for a moment and didn't take his hand. He certainly wasn't from around here and clearly hadn't heard the stories about her husband or else he didn't realize who she was. Otherwise he would've left her on the ground like everyone else. 

When she couldn't figure out exactly what he was after, she concluded it must be what every man was after, so she pushed herself to her feet and began to gather the spools of yarn that had spilled everywhere when she was shoved. He helped retrieve and place them back in the basket she carried, and she looked at him, utterly confused. "Aren't you a gentleman."

He'd smirked. "I'm a… sailor, actually. Likely far from a gentleman."

She rolled her eyes and put away the last of the skeins. If he truly was after some hurried, illicit affair, there were plenty of women in town who were far younger and more beautiful than she. Not to mention all the ones who had lovely dresses and jewels to wear who weren't covered in grime and sweat or seen as worse than the rodents infesting the town. Why was he even speaking to her? Let alone helping her? "Well then, sailor, what is it you're looking for?"

He reached out and pulled something from her hair then twirled it in his fingers. A twig. "Nothing, milady. I only wished to see you all right."

She stiffened when he almost touched her. No man, no person save her son had shown her even that much kindness in years. 

" _Are_ you all right?" He looked at her with softness in his clear, bright eyes, and she imagined they'd stolen many hearts all over the world. It was lucky then that hers had long since grown cold and turned to stone. 

Still. The unique gesture was not lost on her. It was nice to be regarded as something other than pestilent filth. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Good." He smiled gorgeously at her and it almost made her heart beat. It was at least under consideration for a few seconds. Especially when his thumb brushed over her cheek. "Then I'll see you around." He left and disappeared down a side street. And she had no idea what to make of it. Or of him. 

He'd looked rather young, obviously presumptuous, likely arrogant and full of himself, but he'd seemed genuine as well. It made no difference in the long run however. He was gone and she had work to do.

She visited and was rejected from twenty more places before trudging home exhausted. Her boy ran out to her with happy cries of, "Mama!" and threw his arms around her legs. 

She knelt down and lifted him off the ground. He pressed sticky kisses to her cheek and locked his little arms over her shoulders, and tears stung her eyes. She ruffled his fluffy hair and held him tightly. "My sweet boy."

When he finally decided to wiggle out of her arms, she placed him on the ground and he picked up her basket even though it was far too big for him. She tried to help and tried to tell him he was too young, but he refused and dragged it himself all the way to the house. 

She wished she had something to give him as a reward or even just something fun and frivolous that would make his eyes light up, but she had nothing and he only asked for another hug. She scooped him up, gave him a dizzy, spinning hug and tickly kisses between his neck and shoulder until he squealed with giggles.

He stopped her with his little hands squishing her cheeks, holding her face at a distance. "I miss you," he said with big hopeful eyes, and no, her heart wasn't frozen. But it was stone that cracked and splintered and somehow still ached. 

She touched her nose to his. "I miss you, too, baby. All the time. I'd spend all day and all night and every minute with you if I could."

He hugged her again and rested his head on her shoulder, and she held him and tried not to cry because her sweet baby always worried when she cried. It wasn't until his father stumbled in that she put him down. Baelfire frowned when she let go, but she bent down to his level and whispered, "Sweetheart, will you go pick a few things from the garden for supper?" 

He nodded and scampered off, and at least he always wanted to be helpful. She hadn't come up with many excuses that worked to send him from the room when she and Rumple had to occupy the same space, but if she or his father needed help, he was almost always willing. 

At least Rumple didn't say anything today. Silence was cold and uncomfortable, but it wasn't viciously yelling at each other. 

She tied her hair back and attempted to wash her hands and face. There was still mud and grime from earlier and it was always hard to rid herself of it. If he noticed the state of her clothes or hair or anything, he didn't call attention to it. 

She'd told him everything in the beginning. The way they slammed doors and spat insults in her face, the way they glared and threw rotting food, the way even little Baelfire was attacked when he had to tag along with her to sell their wares. 

Her husband said they wouldn't possibly do such a thing, she caught people on a bad day, even if they didn't like her much now, they'd come around eventually. The people never did though. He stayed at home, blissfully ignorant, doing what he could around the house, caring for the son she rarely got to spend time with because walking and carrying and selling things all over town was often too much for his leg. 

She'd be lying if she said it didn't make her angry and jealous and frustrated to the point of tears. It didn't have to be this difficult. It didn't have to be like this at all. It shouldn't be. But he either didn't believe her or didn't care. The village talked of him, of them and their whole family, but he rarely heard any of it. He told her to stick it out, be tougher, it wasn't that horrible. 

He told her to do it for their son. Always their son. Because the one thing that made her feel like she had a heart that was still beating, was her sweet boy. Because she'd do anything in the world for Baelfire, and he knew it. It was a horrible, cruel trump to play, but it was effective.

She worked on fixing something for them to eat, and Baelfire stood beside her the whole time, handing her things she asked for and wanting to know details about all the vegetables, and she so wished he wouldn't. Not when they weren't alone. Not when any heart she let show through would be used against her. She had no heart. No heart only stone that felt nothing. 

Their evening was quiet and thankfully uneventful and she was able to put Baelfire to bed by herself, which meant she could take out drawings she did of imaginary, faraway lands and tell him stories until he fell asleep. She stayed with him for a long time after he'd drifted off, cradling him in her arm until she grew weary herself and left his little room. 

Rumple was still quiet, sitting by the fire and unconsciously twisting his fingers together like he was spinning. She put her drawings away and finally lay down on her bed. Her legs and feet still ached even with the rest she'd had getting Baelfire to sleep. Hopefully, it'd be lesser in the morning. She had much further to walk tomorrow. 

The moment she pulled a blanket over her legs and closed her eyes, he broke the silence. "Do you hate me?"

There was aching in her chest even though it held nothing. "Of course not."

"You act like it."

She sighed heavily. "I'm tired, Rumple. I'm tired of all of this. It's…" _It's killing me._ She couldn't say that however. He'd think she was blaming him. Maybe she did blame him. But it really didn't matter what he'd done if he would try to fix it. He never tried though. 

"I'll let you sleep then." He got up and went to the room they used to share where he now slept alone. 

She could only do so much. She could work as hard as humanly possible, but she only got so far. And he wouldn't help. He ignored it or said it would go away. He left her to sleep, and there were too many cracks in her stone. She cried quietly until she was too exhausted to do anything but sleep. 

She saw him again the next day. The man with blue eyes and dark hair and a devastating smile. He smirked at her and left a few gold coins and a red flower in her basket. 

She went after him, told him she was not looking for charity or flirtations from some audacious young man, and tried to return his money. But he lifted a square of cloth from the basket and said he was only paying her for her merchandise.

It was one she'd sewn. She recognized the stitching on the edges, always different from her husband's. He tucked it in his vest and smiled sweetly at her before disappearing again. 

She picked up the flower and meant to toss it away, but didn't have the heart. She gave it to Baelfire when she returned home and he wore it behind his ear until bedtime when he stuck it in his box of treasures. 

When she saw the man a third time, it was at a fruit stand where she went to purchase the little oranges that Baelfire so loved, and she accused him of stalking her. 

His eyebrow arched but the smile never left his face. "I was here first, darling. Perhaps you're stalking me."

He'd bought the last of the oranges and had a few men who looked like they frequented scummy taverns take wooden boxes of fruit off somewhere. Probably to their ship. When she turned to leave empty-handed, he rushed after her and offered her a bulging brown sack. It was full of the little oranges. She stared at him, searching, trying to find some explanation or motive or reason in his eyes. 

"If you don't want them, I'll keep them."

She held the bag gingerly and offered him the coins she'd brought to pay for the oranges. He shook his head and insisted he had plenty. She frowned. What was she supposed to think? "Why? Why give me oranges? And a flower? Why help me? What are you after?"

His expression softened and he almost looked sad. "I'd love to see you smile."

For a moment, she truly wanted to take him at his word and just believe that. The thought that someone might care about her and her happiness. It had to be something everyone wanted. But he was just being coy to win another woman's affections as he probably had a thousand times before. And she didn't smile anymore. "I'm afraid I must disappoint you then."

Something sparkled in his eyes like light on deep waves. "I have time." 

When she saw him next, he came out of nowhere. It was growing dark and she tripped and fell hard on the cobblestones. She must be more tired than she thought and so was slow getting up. Until someone grabbed her hair and yanked her off the ground to spit insults and strike her across the face. 

She fell again and wondered how Rumple would explain it away when she got home. He had every other time. There were footsteps and angry voices. She needed to run. But something grabbed her ankle and dragged her down the street on her stomach.

She kicked and reached for the little knife she'd splurged on and kept strapped to her calf, but couldn't get to it. But there were enraged voices again and the clash of metal on metal. She freed her leg, turned over, and scrambled to her feet. And saw him. Sword in hand, long leather coat twirling with him as he fought. 

It was furious, impassioned, reckless. But he was defending her. And he was no mere sailor. He was a pirate. 

She glanced around, down the streets, but saw no one else. She freed her knife and held it tightly in her hand just in case, but the man she'd met, the _pirate_ , knocked out her attacker and shoved him to the ground. 

He swaggered over to her, breathing heavily, bleeding from the corner of his mouth. 

She reached up and lightly, delicately touched the edge of his lips. "Are you okay?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Wonderful. Are you?"

Her heart was pounding and her limbs felt jittery and there was far too much coursing through her whole body. But she nodded. 

His gaze traveled over her and he motioned to her hand. "Is that a knife?"

She looked down at it even though she knew the answer. He burst into a huge grin, and she glared. "What? Are you laughing?"

"No," he beamed at her, radiating light and warmth and emotion. It wasn't just softness. It wasn't just sparkling eyes or obvious amusement. There was something else in the way he looked at her. Something deep and haunting and bright and powerful. "I love it."

She frowned and didn't know what to think. Everything that just happened. Everything that could have happened. There was too much and what if it happened again and what was she supposed to do if he wasn't around looking out for her?

He rested a hand on her shoulder and it was really too much. She was going to cry. Her cracks were going to split wide open and she'd fall to pieces. She moved forward and bent her head, and his arms came around her. 

"It's okay, love," he whispered. "You're okay. I won't let anything hurt you."

She shook and held onto him and just tried to breathe. He was strong and steady and smelled of leather and spices and ocean. He was safe. She didn't know how she knew this, but she felt it. She didn't even know his name, but she still was safe with him. It let her breathe easier and soon there weren't any more tears. 

When she lifted her head, he stroked her face with his thumb. Like he had when they first met. "Let's get out of here. All right?"

She nodded and let him take her hand and lead her away. 

They sat together in the corner of the tavern the rest of the night. He bought them drinks and told her of all the realms he'd been to and all the things he seen. Magical jewels buried in ice caves, oceans that glow yellow-green in the dark, jungles filled with lush fragrant flowers that bring luck or love or death or sleep, stones that grant wishes if you can turn them to fire, creatures with colorful wings and soft fur. 

She was captivated by every word and thought of all the stories she told to her son. She'd wished there were real places like the ones in her tales, places she and Baelfire could run away to and live happy and free. She so wished they could be free. There was so much more out there. There was so much better. Maybe there would even be a place where her heart could be living and beating and feeling. 

When the sun started to rise, he walked her home. She stopped at the garden before they got too close and thanked him. For helping her, for listening to her, for caring about her. He lifted her hand to his lips and left a soft kiss on the back of it. Then a few more over the scrapes she'd acquired. It made her heart flutter. 

When he looked up at her, there was a catch in his breath. Slowly, brightly, he grinned and pointed at her. "That was a smile."

She scoffed lightly and looked away, but yes, it did feel like one. "No, it's a dream. You're drunk. We've been up all night."

He simply stared at her with shimmering eyes, and looked more than a little hazy and delirious. "You're so beautiful."

Her face felt hot and she rested a hand on his chest. "Go home. Go to sleep."

He beamed as he walked away, promising he'd dream of her, but her short lived smile was gone by the time she made it to her front door. 

Rumple was enraged by her absence and ranted about it even in front of Baelfire while she cleaned her cuts and scrapes. Blood had dried at her temple and there was dark coloring already forming on her ribs all of which felt very tender on the one side. They weren't broken though. Not this time. It wasn't until Baelfire sat down on the floor and started crying that Rumple stopped and pulled him up to comfort him. 

She didn't have time to tell her son goodbye. Or to argue any more with her husband. She fixed her clothes, grabbed a basket of threads and embroidered cloth to sell today, and went to work. 

She came home early in the afternoon to rest for an hour or so before continuing, but her body ached and she was so tired. And Rumple was out caring for the animals. So she lay in bed and slept. When she woke, Baelfire was curled up beside her, playing with a toy he'd made. 

He looked up at her when he noticed she was no longer sleeping. He put his toy down and stayed still. "Sorry, Mama. I'll be quiet."

Nothing made her feel so broken. She turned and pulled him close with one arm. "No, baby. You're fine. What did you do today?"

He told her about feeding the chickens and the dog and petting the sheep, and playing in the trees while papa worked and helping him carry water, and making a boat out of sticks and grass and flowers. "Mama?" he asked quietly once he'd finished telling her everything. "Why were you gone?"

She sighed because what could she tell him? She didn't want to frighten him or make him worry. "I had to be. I couldn't come home. But I'm sorry if I worried you. I love you, sweetheart."

"Did someone hurt you?"

She stilled and couldn't stop picturing the older children who threw things at her precious baby and liked to tease and torment him when they saw him. One of the reasons she left him home when she had to go into the village. It wasn't fair. It shouldn't happen. He shouldn't know that sort of pain ever. But he was a smart boy anyway. He noticed when she came home scraped and bruised. "I'm okay. You don't have to worry, all right?"

He brought her hand up and kissed the faint marks on it. "Okay."

Rumple's anger had mostly burnt out when he came inside that evening. She wondered if it was really her he was angry with or if it had turned into self-loathing and frustration because he couldn't or didn't do anything to change the way people treated them. He always had a tendency to hate himself and take it out on everything else. In the beginning, she could soothe him and talk him down from it. But she hadn't been able to in a long time. 

He took Baelfire and put him to bed that night while she lay in her own bed, restless and unable to sleep. 

When Rumple emerged and went to heat some water, he looked her over, utterly heartbroken. She wondered if Baelfire had mentioned something, but maybe Rumple just felt badly anyway. 

He made her a cup of tea without saying anything and sat at the foot of her bed. "You should sleep in our room tonight. You shouldn't be alone."

She set the tea to the side and bit back a remark about how he couldn't or wouldn't protect her anyway so she might as well stay here. The last thing she wanted to do was share a bed with him. "I'm fine here, thanks."

"I wasn't asking. If you really were hurt, you shouldn't be alone."

Her eyes narrowed. Of course he wasn't asking. He wouldn't ask because he didn't care what she wanted. She pushed off her blankets and got up to find her shoes. 

"Where are you going?"

She grabbed a shawl and twisted up her hair. "Out."

"At this time of night? You can't do that."

"I can. Baelfire is asleep. You go to bed if you're tired." She didn't give him time to respond. She walked out the door and left. 

The tavern was at least welcoming. Only scum of the earth came to this one, so she was far from an outsider. She struck up a conversation with some pirates who seemed to find her charming and hilarious. She couldn't help wondering if they were shipmates to the man she'd met. Especially when they told her they were supposed to set sail days ago, but their captain had his eye on some woman. They were biding their time, frequenting every bar, and causing as much commotion with the locals as possible. 

One of the barmaids cringed when she had to bring drinks over to their table. She set a pitcher down and sneered at Milah. "Are you a whore now, too?"

One of her new companions spoke up. "Hey! You be nice. This is our lady friend and she's a lady."

The girl's mouth dropped open and she flounced away. Even Milah looked at him in surprise. But they told her, "Captain insists. Pirates we may be but also honorable."

"We're good men," another said. "Outcasts. Loners. Ruffians. But good men."

She grinned and shook her head. She had a feeling, the same way she knew he was not a simple sailor, that the captain in question was the pirate she'd met. If he was, then she could find him. "I think I'd like to meet this captain of yours."

When they were all full of beer and rum and liquor and had taught her at least two drinking songs and four different dice and card games, they led her to their ship. They sang loudly as they walked toward the docks and before they'd made it all the way to their ship, she saw him. 

He strolled to the edge and stood at the top of the gangplank. "What on earth are you doing and why wasn't I invit—" His eyes widened and he stared in shock at her in the middle of his men, arm in arm with one of them.

She grinned up at him. If he wanted a smile, she'd give him a smile. 

One of the men told him, "The lady wanted to meet you, Captain," and a slow smirk overtook the captain's face. 

She patted the arm of the man who'd escorted her, or rather the one who needed help staying upright, and walked up the gangplank until she met him at the top. 

His eyes were deep, unfathomably endless in the moonlight, and he looked at her with dark, mischievous glee. "What can I do for you, love?"

She slid her arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a searing kiss. It sent fire through her everywhere and she actually felt him go weak and clutch her. Her heart was beating. Pounding. She had a functioning, living, real heart, and she held him tighter.

His men cheered drunkenly and one asked if this meant they could leave port now. 

He waved them away, told them to busy themselves elsewhere, and held her hand as she stepped on the deck of the ship. His ship. 

She cupped his scruffy face and leaned in close to him, "Do you want me?"

His gaze went hazy and he bent his forehead to hers. "Gods, yes."

She kissed him again, slowly this time, letting it ache and burn through him, too. "I want you."

He pulled back, breathless, and looked at her sideways. "How drunk are you?"

"You _are_ honorable," she laughed and pressed close to him. "I'm not. Pleasantly warm and tingly. That's all. Ask your crew - I didn't drink that much." She moved her mouth to his ear, flicked her tongue over his silver earring, and breathed hot breath over his skin. "You should take me. Pirate."

He gripped her wrist tightly and led her to his cabin. She was feverish and flooded with heat, and he made her feel. It had been so long since anyone had touched her or loved her like this. His mouth and hands and tongue teased her everywhere, and she felt her heartbeat in every part of her body. She heard it pounding in her ears, and when she flattened her palms on his bare chest, she felt his beating in the same rhythm. 

He kissed her and whispered to her and held her like he never wanted to let go. He filled her with his fingers and his body and his warmth. He made her feel all of it over and over until she sobbed and gripped him and made him feel it, too. She just needed someone who'd love her. She needed to feel. She needed to be alive. 

He held her after, stroking her hair and weaving his fingers with hers. It almost felt like love. It was more than any love she'd known. But she knew he didn't love her. It was fine that he didn't. She didn't and wouldn't ask that of him. Not because they shared a bed. She'd shared a bed with a man for years and never had love. 

She stayed in his arms and listened to his heart, and wondered how long before he'd set sail. How long before she was alone again? When his breathing slowed and deepened, she carefully untangled herself. He looked so content and blissful. He'd been so good to her. She hated to ruin it with awkward, callous, morning-after goodbyes. She loosely tied the ribbon from her hair around his wrist and left a kiss on his cheek. 

Emptiness filled her the further she walked from the ship. Her heart was dying again. The first time had happened slowly, over years, but this had to be almost instantaneous. It ripped her to pieces. She'd been alive again. She'd been happy. But none of it was hers to keep. Her life was stagnant and painful. She had to accept that. Rumple wouldn't change. He refused. So she turned cold, and her chest once again became hollow.

She never expected to see him again. But he found her later that morning when she stopped to eat some tomatoes she'd brought with her for lunch. 

His usual playful smile was gone. "You left."

She looked up at him and filled with sadness. "I'm sorry. Work to do. And I'm married."

"I know. But you're miserable."

She sighed and picked up her basket. "I don't know why you care. I'm sure you have plenty of women all over, and you've had me so…" Her throat hurt and she couldn't form words any more. 

There'd never been moment where he had nothing to say, but he was silent now, staring at her and it made her want to throw her arms around him and comfort him and apologize. He looked at her like he was lost or like she'd struck him. How could she have hurt him so? He bit his lip and looked down. "We're leaving today. I… have to."

She swallowed hard and nodded. She didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing would change. She was cold. Heartless. 

He started to walk away but stopped and looked back at her. "You could come with me. If you wanted. I could take you anywhere."

Her lip quivered and she fought tears. "I can't. I can't leave my son." 

He gave her another heartbreaking look, then nodded and disappeared. 

She hurried home, knowing she'd be useless working the rest of the day, and cried for hours before managing to be stone again. It was over a month before she could sleep without exhausting herself through tears first. Then she felt more splintered and broken than ever. 

If Rumple noticed, he never made any indication of it. He didn't even get angry anymore. He walked around unaffected, trying mindlessly to convince all of them that they were happy. 

She thought about running away. She had ever since Baelfire was born. But there was no point if the one person who loved her was here. She asked him a few times what he thought about living somewhere else, even in a very delicate way what he thought about leaving and living with only her. He would frown and want his Papa to be with them. She couldn't fault him for it. Most of his time was spent with his father, and Baelfire had the biggest heart. He wouldn't want to leave Rumple by himself. He wouldn't want to leave Rumple at all. 

Baelfire cried sometimes, too, and would never say why he was sad or what had happened, but he'd curl up in her arms or Rumple's and ask to be held until he wasn't sad anymore. He snuck out of his bed in the middle of the night more often and came to hers. He'd wrap the ends of her long curls around his fingers and refuse to go back to his own bed. 

After a few times of half-heartedly arguing with him, she gave in and just hugged him closer while he slept next to her. During the day, he'd cling to her when she was around and ask why she never drew pictures anymore. He'd kiss her tears away when she cried, and was the only thing keeping her breathing. 

She tried to keep herself busy and just work and work and work until she could collapse on her bed. Goodness knows they needed the money. And when she had nothing to do for too long, her mind would wander and it made everything a hundred times worse. Because she'd always think of him. She'd miss him and ache and long for his kindness and playfulness. She'd wish for his love. She wished for love in general, but nothing made her feel the way he did. 

She saw him standing near the garden one afternoon while Rumple and Baelfire were out with the animals, and was sure she'd finally lost her mind. But he didn't disappear, so she slowly walked out and he was still there and then she couldn't breathe. "What are you doing here?"

His smile was slow and broken but somehow still overjoyed. "I miss you." He laughed and looked pained. "I can't stop thinking about you. I've thought of nothing but you. Milah. I love you."

She trembled and it couldn't be real. She was dreaming. She'd had dreams like this before and she didn't even know he knew her name so it had to be a dream.

He took a step toward her and stroked her cheek. And it was real. He felt real. He was here. "If you can't leave, I'll stay."

She gaped at him. He couldn't do that. He was a pirate. He was an adventurer and he needed freedom and his ship and this place would kill him the way it was killing her. "But…"

"No. I don't care. I want to be here. If you don't want to be with me, that's fine. Well, no, actually it would kind of break my heart, but that's okay. I just have to be where you are."

The sound she made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and of course tears fell. But she pulled him into her arms and he was really here with her. 

He hugged her tightly and whispered he loved her over and over until she lifted his head and kissed him. "I love you, too, Killian." She felt his face and slid her fingers into his hair. "Don't stay here. Take me away with you."

He grinned gorgeously, happily, and her heart stayed always alive and bright and beating.


End file.
